He Was A Super Shiny Boy And

I Envied Women With Signature Hair-dos, Signature Perfumes, Signature Sign-offs. Novelists Who Tell Vogue Magazine: “i Can’t Live Without My Smythson Notebook, Pomegranate Noir Cologne By Jo Malone And Frette Sheets”. In The Grip Of Madness, Materialism Begins To Look Like An Admirable Belief System.

From Such A Young Age, I Was Raised And Have Raised Myself On Film To Such An Extent, That It Has Sometimes Bled Into My Reality. There Are Times I've Felt Very Mulholland Drive, Where People's Dream Worlds Overlap With Each Other.

I Think That's Such A Beautiful Sentiment. Love Should Only Last As Long As A Very Expensive And Impractical Bikini That Looks Stunning, But Dissolves In The Sea Within Days. So Many Pop Songs Tell Of This Terrible, Tiresome Love That They Want To Last Forever. But That Just Makes Me Think Of Long-life Milk, Acrid And Fake. Love Should Be Like A Movie Trailer. Even If The Film's A Stinker, You Get The Best Laughs And The Biggest Explosions In The Space Of Two Minutes.

My Thoughts Are Messy, My Emotions Are Messy, My Body Goes In And Out At Will. The Raised White Scars On My Arms And Legs Are The Only Aspect Of My Being That Comes Close To Minimalism. They Came From Chaos, But It Is Hard To Carve Frustration And Unease Into The Flesh. Only Straight Lines.

It's Like He Has Emotional Amnesia... I Think You Have To Accept That The Person You Knew Isn't There At The Moment. I Was Witness To How Much He Loved You. I Have The Photos. This Isn't The Person We Knew. I Don't Recognize This Person. He's Shed His Skin." Her Heart Is Broken Too. She Has To Say The Thing That Will Give Me Back My Life. She Draws On Every Reserve. I See How Much It Hurts Her And It Hurts Me Too. I Came From Her Joy And Her Pain, I Lived In It And I Live In It Now.